


Noël, Noël

by TheTeaIsAddictive



Series: Winter Turns to Spring [2]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: (technically a ball but w/e), Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, F/M, First Christmas, Fluff, making out in alcoves during a ball: and other Peak Remake!Adelle Moments, the tropes are trash but they are all i know, yes i did the belle makes a gift and the prince buys one trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12951855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTeaIsAddictive/pseuds/TheTeaIsAddictive
Summary: The week before the first Christmas post-curse was filled with Cogsworth's anxieties, present exchanges, and a promise to hang some mistletoe.In other words, it was the most wonderful time of the year.





	Noël, Noël

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Julie_Jeanette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie_Jeanette/gifts).



**Noël, Noël**

The week before Christmas had always been a busy time for the castle. What with last-minute preparations for the family's private dinner, the annual Christmas ball, and presents for the servant's own families, a special kind of panic came over them all after the third Advent Sunday had passed. This year, the first after the curse, was especially panicked because all of them had fallen out of the way of their roles in the intervening years.

"Is everything alright with Cogsworth?" Belle asked in that busy week, walking into Adam's study. "Only I've just seen him running down the hallway muttering something about garlands and lace."

"Cogsworth likes to work himself up about everything," Adam said, rubbing his eyes as he leaned away from the latest Bills from the parlement. "Christmas is a special excuse to do just that. He'll settle down, don't worry."

"If you say so," Belle said, a small frown wrinkling her brow. "Is he always like this at Christmas?"

Adam pushed his chair out a little, turning it to face his fiancée. Without needing an invitation, Belle settled on the arm, as Adam wound his arms around her legs and waist, securing her. She ran her fingers through his hair, which had loosened from his queue due to his enduring habit of running his hands through it while feeling pressured. "I think so," he answered. "When I was a child, I didn't notice the servants at all. And before the curse . . . well, knowing him now, I'd say he was as stressed as always."

"What was it like? Christmas, I mean?" Belle asked.

"Much the same as it's going to be this year," Adam said, running his fingers over her textured belt. "Mass on Christmas Eve. Réveillon early on Christmas morning. A ball that night. We used to have Réveillon after we got back from the service, but apparently I fell asleep in the turkey once when I was four, so we switched it."

Belle laughed at the mental image, as he thought she might. "And the ball?" she asked with a hint of nervousness. "What was that like?"

"It . . . was a ball?" he said, shrugging slightly. "I wasn't allowed to attend when I was little, and when I grew older it just became like any other ball to me." He could see the worry on Belle's face, and he pulled her a little closer – she came dangerously close to sliding into his lap, grasping the back of the chair with one hand to support herself. "You don't have to worry," he said. "You're a much better public speaker than I am, and if you dance a lot you'll be too out of breath to be nervous about talking to whoever you're partnered with. So between the two of us, I think we've got it covered."

"Charmer," she smirked. "You always know what to say."

"And what not to say," he said. With a rakish wink, he pulled Belle fully onto his lap and kissed her. With a sigh of contentment, she wrapped her arms around his neck like the ribbon on a present. After a few moments of letting their lips move gently against each other, Belle pulled back.

"I don't see any mistletoe," she gasped with fake outrage. "Why, you are taking a sincere liberty!"

"I'll get some for the ball," he said. "Hang them in the alcoves, and draw you over to them any chance I can."

"Sounds like a plan," she laughed, and leaned up to kiss him again.

* * *

As promised, Cogsworth produced several garlands for the ballroom in the next two days. He had also, somehow, arranged for lengths of ornate white lace to be sent to Belle and Madame the next day.

"Cogsworth, this is beautiful," Belle gasped, running her fingers over it carefully. "Where on earth did you get it?"

"I asked my sister what would be an appropriate gift," he said in a blustering fashion. "I don't know what young ladies like, so I knew that getting a gift for you would be even harder." Belle smiled, and she swore she saw a twinkle in the old man's eye. The subject of her lack of propriety had been one which, although initially a cause of confusion on Cogsworth's part, had resulted in a sort of running joke between them. "Clothilde suggested lacework; she had been working on some on and off over the summer, and she wanted to give you something."

_As an apology,_ he didn't need to say.

"Oh!" Belle gasped. "She _made_ this?"

"From scratch," Cosgworth said, puffing his chest up. "She can be . . . abrasive, I know – and a tough haggler to boot. But my sister has her softer side. Consider it a gift from both of us."

"Oh, Cogsworth," Belle said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. He blushed, making noises of displeasure which were clearly faked. "Thank you. _Both_ of you. Madame," she said, turning back, "is there any way we could attach this to what I'm wearing at the ball?"

"I am already far ahead of you, _cara_ ," Madame said. "Some around the cuffs, a little on the neckline – and fashion the rest into a small belt. Simple, understated, but unmistakable. What do you think?"

"It sounds perfect," Belle said. "Thank you, as well. I'm afraid to even touch this, in case I stain it in any way."

"Then go, go!" Madame said, flapping her hands in Belle's direction. "The girls will be here for their lessons soon, anyway."

With another smile for the both of them, Belle left the room and made her way to the library. The largest room had become a school area for the girls of the village – although Belle had stressed that the boys were welcome to join if they wished. In the three and a half months the school had been open, she'd yet to see a man other than Adam, Cogsworth, or Chip step in while the girls were in session. The girls got on grandly without them, however, and Belle had made great strides in reading, writing, and arithmetic. Her (admittedly lofty) goal had been for all the girls to be able to read and write their own names by Christmastime. So far, only five of the ten girls could tell their capital letters apart; of those five, only three could write their initial down without tracing over it. But even though the girls were progressing slowly, it gave Belle an inescapable sense of pride to know that they were progressing at all.

"She'll be a good ruler," Cogsworth said quietly to Belle's retreating figure as she mused on the school.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Cogsworth," Madame said steadily. "His Highness has not been coronated, and the two of them are only just engaged. They have a long way to go before they can take over responsibility for the principality."

"Her tact," he said, ignoring her. "Very important quality in a ruler, that. Christine had it."

Madame paused in her measurements of the lace. Cogsworth rarely spoke of Adam's mother, even less than Lumière and Chapeau did. She privately suspected that of all the staff who had worked there at the time, only Mrs. Potts had truly processed her grief. As she and Cadenza had still been living in Italy during the Princess's life and death, a spark of curiosity and pity filled her. "It is hard when one's master dies, is it not?" she said.

"I first met Christine when she was seven years old," Cogsworth said. "She was more like a younger sister or a cousin than a master." With a sniff, he produced a snow-white handkerchief from within the depths of his jacket. Dabbing at his eyes, he continued speaking. "She always liked Christmas. Even when things were dire with the old Master, she could find happiness during this season. It's good to see Adam embracing it all again."

"You know they'll love whatever we produce," Madame said softly. "For them, our worth is not tied to our performance." The words she didn't say hung deliberately between them.

"Yes, well," Cogsworth said, tucking his handkerchief away. "We have our little rituals for those we remember as well as the ones we still have, don't we? I for one am looking forwards to whatever asinine prank Lumière will try to pull on me this year."

Madame smiled, picking up a small pair of scissors as Cogsworth walked out the room. While it was true that Christmas had been a melancholy time during the curse, she couldn't help but feel a spark of cheer at the thought of what next week would bring.

* * *

After Réveillon that morning, but hours before the evening ball, Belle and Adam secluded themselves in the library – not the wide, open space which was used for the schoolroom and today stood blank and empty, but one of the smaller side rooms.

"Are you ready for your gift?" Belle asked. The gift in question was in her hands at that very moment, and the whole reason they were alone in the first place, but Adam still smiled at Belle asking him. She handed it over and looked at him intently while he carefully ripped apart the packaging.

"Belle, this is . . ." He lifted up a long, midnight-blue scarf. Intricate cable designs had been worked up it, and he could see hints of gold where she had clearly added another yarn for a few rows. The yarn had been tied off at either end, but was not yet sewn in – had he known more about knitting, he would have also been able to tell that the piece had not been blocked yet.

"I know it's simple," Belle blurted out when Adam was still silent. "But I didn't really know what to get you, and I didn't want to go back to Villeneuve just now and deal with . . . well, with everything. But I can knit, so I asked Madame if she had any spare yarn, and I saw the blue and thought – well, I thought it would suit you. But it's not quite finished – I literally just cast off this morning, and I haven't had time to –"

"You made this? For me?" Adam asked.

"Yes," Belle said. "Do you like it?"

In answer, Adam wrapped the scarf around his neck immediately. "I love it," he said. "Thank you, so much." He leaned over to kiss her, as another, natural way to show his gratitude. "Although now I feel much more insecure about my present," he said. "You made something for me with your own two hands, and I _bought_ something."

"Don't be silly," Belle said, still a little red. "You always put such thought into everything – and besides, it's Christmas, not a competition."

Adam mumbled a disagreement, although the actual words were indistinct, and hefted a large box onto the table. It, too, was wrapped in paper and ribbon, and Belle immediately tied the fabric to her belt – an old money-saving habit, from when times were harder for her and Maurice and which the years had refused to shake from her. The torn paper revealed a good-sized wooden box with a brass handle. Birds, leaves, and forget-me-nots were painted on the lid, although the body of the box was plain, varnished wood.

"A box?" she asked.

"Open it," Adam laughed nervously.

Belle lifted off the lid. Inside was a wide array of sturdy tools; a hammer, small gears, clippers, screwdrivers, metal rulers of various lengths, and small boxes of screws and nails. As Belle lifted them out slowly, she saw that there was another layer of tools underneath. Although it was clear that they were intended for serious use, and not decoration, an ornate blue 'B' had been painted on to each tool, where applicable.

"Adam . . ." she said slowly.

"I remember you said that you wanted to do some more tinkering," Adam said quietly. "But that you didn't want to always inconvenience the handymen or your father for tools. I asked around to see what most toolboxes were stocked with, so there should be a good selection there. It's not very specialised, though. And I hope you don't mind the 'B', but I thought it might be nice for you to be able to tell which tools were yours. Oh – the box is part of your present, too. Your father helped me decorate it."

Belle laid her new tools down carefully, patting them with the tips of her fingers. The next moment, she had leaned over and captured Adam's lips in a rapturous kiss. Adam closed his eyes and let the scent of her hair and the movements of her lips sweep him away for a moment, before pushing her away with one hand. "You like it, then?" he asked, his thumb stroking her collarbone where it peeked out from the neckline of her dress.

"It's perfect," she said, leaning back in to kiss him..

Later that evening, Adam led Belle to the centre of the ballroom after the introductory speeches had been made. She was resplendent in a burgundy dress, accentuating the richness of her hair and the flush of her cheeks. Lengths of beautiful white lace accented her elbow-length sleeves; the same lace trimmed the modest neckline and the shift from bodice to full, slashed skirt. They danced swiftly and elegantly, Adam always making sure that the other dancers had plenty of room to move, and soon the ball was in full swing.

"You see," he said quietly. "Nothing to worry about."

"I suppose," she said. "I'm still a little nervous, though. My hands are shaking."

"I know a way to fix that," Adam said. She gave him a quizzical look, and in a few moments Adam had steered them to a small alcove. "The best way to not be nervous about something is not to think about it," he said.

"What do you propose as a distraction, then?" Belle asked.

"Look up," he murmured. He already knew what she would find – a small sprig of dark-green foliage and white berries, tied to the candle-sconces with a cheery red ribbon. So when Belle turned her head, he began pressing kisses to the side of her neck. She gasped – whether from the kisses or the mistletoe, Adam wasn't sure.

"You put your plan into action, I see," Belle murmured in a low voice.

"What can I say?" he whispered into her skin. She shivered, and guided his face away from her neck.

"We'll be missed before long," she said. Adam pulled away, unsure whether she wished to continue.

"Best make the most of it," she winked. "It would be a shame to let this go to waste. After all, it really showcases your commitment to seasonal traditions."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted by Julie_Jeanette, who wanted to know how 2017!Belle and Adam would celebrate the first Christmas post-curse.
> 
> I tried to include some French traditions, from what I could see online, but if these are from the wrong time period I can only apologise. The idea of the library becoming a girls’ school I believe originated in the novelisation, which I still haven’t read yet. 
> 
> Belle’s Christmas dress is taken from Enchanted Christmas. There was no way to write it without seeming clunky, but Adam is wearing a green jacket and yes, he does basically look like a Christmas tree. (Although Christmas trees weren’t a French thing, as far as I can tell, but a German thing that was exported to the UK when Albert married Victoria, which is well outside both our country and our era)
> 
> Once again, still receiving prompts, but it might take a while for me to get to them. I’ll probably update again before Christmas, but if I don’t then Season’s Greetings to you all.
> 
> TheTeaIsAddictive


End file.
